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Wednesday, March 30, 2005

The reason I bring this up is because another armchair advocate has emerged in the battle of "big cereal." Her name is Jennifer Hardee. She’s suing Kraft Foods, General Mills and Kellogg for misleading advertising.

Evidently, she was duped by their recent offerings of low sugar, sugary breakfast cereals. It turns out that the lack of sugar doesn’t actually make the cereals any healthier. (As I write that last part I’m reminded that I used to hate the claim that food was “healthy.” No food is “healthy.” It’s dead. I think becoming a slab of sirloin steak is about the least healthy thing that could happen to you. But I’m not here to discuss the English language’s evolving syntax…)

So Mrs. Hardee, mother of two from San Diego, CA, is embroiled in the battle of her little life. She never bought the sugary cereals before because…well…because you might as well feed your child cocaine. But when she saw that they contained less sugar, she took the bait. And she was feeling pretty good about the world.

But later, she saw a news story about how the low sugar cereals, while technically low in sugar, are supplemented with other carbohydrates that neutralize any benefits from the lack of sugar.

That’s when she got pissed. And she did what any other red-blooded American would; she sued the hell out of everybody.

But here’s my dilemma. Hardee claims that the Cap’n is engaged in false advertising. But the fact remains that there is actually less sugar in these cereals. The boxes say nothing about being “healthy.” (They can’t, they’re boxes. They don’t talk and they don’t have health.)

So where’s the lawsuit? The nutritional information is printed very clearly on the side of the box. It’s all been standardized for easier deciphering. If you’re claiming to be a health-conscious mother wouldn’t you take the time to read the nutritional info? Look, I’m no genius, that’s obvious, but even I don’t believe everything they print on the front of a cereal box.

Even if it’s true.

And I don’t make assumptions about health benefits. Cinnamon Toast Crunch is still Cinnamon Toast Crunch. They may cut down the sugar and make it out of whole grain wheat, but the fact still remains that they’re going to try and make the damn stuff taste like…cinnamon toast! I think they’re obligated to. It’s Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

And I’ll bet it sells a hell of a lot better than Hummus Bunches of Oat Germ.

Why would you expect a sweet cereal to be good for you? The only sweet cereal that’s both tasty and even remotely healthy is Cracklin’ Oat Bran. And that’s because it’s full of fiber. Fiber…and sugar! And there’s no false advertising there. The name says it all. It’s as addictive as crack…and just as expensive.

But Mrs. Hardee feels she’s doing the right thing. Even if she’s a bit misguided.

I wonder if she’d buy Trix if they advertised that it contained more “green?”

If you don’t want your kids to be fat, don’t buy cereal with “peanut butter” in it. I would think that would be obvious.

But apparently it isn’t. Although, let’s not start stoking the hellfire and brimstone just yet. A recent study by the Foundation for Child Development, the “Child-Well Being Index,” shows that kids are better off today than their parents were.

They binge drink less, they have fewer babies, they commit fewer violent crimes and they smoke less – but they’re fat as hell.

Perhaps if they took up smoking…?

The obesity rate among children has tripled. I’m pretty sure that I have a solution, if a solution is direly needed. See, I know why kids are smoking less – because it’s goddamned expensive, that’s why! I’m a smoker. I’m an idiot. Sure. I’m also slowly going broke. Why? Because people think that I shouldn’t be allowed to smoke. Why? Because I’m clogging up their lungs and taking all the health insurance money.

Oh, well that makes sense. I should quit.

But one problem at a time. Make food more expensive! No, don’t do that. Don’t do anything. Count your blessing, I say. So kids are fat. Who can blame them? Evidently all their parents are pregnant, two-pack-a-day, violent alcoholics.

I say, let the kids be fat. It’s not the end of the world. It will take care of itself eventually. Drugs and alcohol put all of us at risk. But obesity is a personal problem (not counting your precious insurance money).

Here’s a news broadcast you’ll never see:

Tragedy in the Heartland!

Anchor: Two teens, clearly still hungry from breakfast, broke into a high school vending machine and ate one too many Tiger Tails. Witness say that as soon as they had stuffed down the last of the high-calorie snack cakes, there was a substantial rumbling…and then the worst happened…Here is an eye witness account from City High valedictorian Marcela Mensala…

Zitty Teen Girl: I seen’d them guys. They was eatin’ Tiger Tails an’ then they just blew up! It was naaasty!

Anchor That’s right, the two teens exploded from overeating. 12 classmates were tragically killed and over 100 others were injured, left covered in a goopy mess of Tiger Tails and partially digested Cinnamon Toast Crunch…

Fat kids are too slow to cause trouble. Let’s just revel in that fact for a few more months.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

What would Jesus smell like if you made a candle out of him? According to Psalm 45 it’s myrrh, aloe and cassia. And now you can have the smell of Jesus right in your own home.

A South Dakota couple has started making the candles, bizarrely called “his essence.” It’s nice to know that Jesus’ essence is as simple as that.

But this brand new scent is very exciting to me. I’m not Christian as you already know, but I think it would be cool to have my living room smell like he’d just spent the night on the couch.

I’m a huge candle lover. I really am. I’ve recently discovered that Ross has a large selection of great candles at a very reasonable price. We just bought a wine scented candle there. It’s fantastic.

But now that there’s the Jesus candle, I’ll be on the lookout for a bread scented candle. I’m taking this thing to the next level. I’m going to get my candles together. Wine, bread and Jesus. It’s going to smell like the last supper in here before too long.

But I’m not sure if I can get my hands on “essence of 12 sweaty guys” and “bitter betrayal.”

You know what really amazes me about this whole Jesus candle thing? What the hell took so long? There should have been Jesus candles for years. It’s not as if myrrh, aloe and cassia are all that difficult to get your hands on. There’s no reason for it. It’s as inexplicable as U2’s popularity and longevity.

And why stop at candles? Why not let all of us smell like Jesus all the time?

I want Jesus cologne! We could call it “Savior” or “Emmanuel” or “J-Man” or something.

Actually, I have the perfect name for it. “SON” It’s hip, it’s apropos, it’s stylish. The men want to be Jesus, the women want to be near him. Maybe I’m just excited to see the television commercials for the stuff. It would be the ultimate perfume commercial ever made. All artsy and cool and conspicuously aloof.

FADE IN on white room filled with staircases and crucifixes.

Willowy Woman: (sad and sexy) He died for me…

Scrawny Man-Boy: (strong…and sexy) He died for all of us…

WW: Son…

SM-B: Son…

Enter Jesus descending from heaven

Jesus: (sexy) I smell like myrrh…

FADE OUT

Awesome.

Don’t worry. There’s no such thing as the over-commercialization of religion these days. In a recent poll of the popularity of religious leaders, Billy Graham beat the Pope. Right on. Testify Billy! But where was Jesse Jackson? He’s saving Michael Jackson and Terri Shiavo! How many brain-dead people does a brother have to protect to make a dumb list these days?!

Fun Fact: There’s was an exciting addition to the netscape yesterday. It’s a brand new blog. That’s right, the wait is finally over. Tanya is entering the fray. Sucker. Thanks to a nagging curiosity (and some encouraging words from Jo), she’s decided to give it a go. Visit her brand new blog Chez Sarcastica.

Of course I’ll be posting a link to the right. I expect you to go there every day. EVERY DAY! And YOU WILL LIKE IT!

So, no longer is Tanya my Joan Rivers, she is now her own Vicki Lawrence. Good luck! Now I just have to teach her how to link to my blog and raise my traffic. It’s a win/win.

Also, the wait is over in another respect. The brand spanking new TAM Cartoon is finally up! Mediocre-iffic!

Aaaannnndddd…. an extra added bonus today. This morning I heard a horrible remix of the fantastic “War” classic tune “Spill the Wine.” And I realized something – I have absolutely no idea what the hell the chorus of that song is saying! And then I realized something else – I doubt that anyone else does either. So as a public service, here are the lyrics to the chorus of War’s masterpiece “Spill the Wine.”

Spill the wine and take that pearl, Spill the wine and take that pearl Spill the wine and take that pearl, Spill the wine and take that pearl

…of course. “Take that pearl.” Turns out that I was hearing the lyrics right after all. I just figured I had to be wrong. I was wrong about being wrong. I underestimated the absurdity of the psychedelic movement.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Aren’t you excited? As it turns out, even the unofficial voice for the lazy American male (me) has to get off his wide white keester every once in a while and earn a little cash. Which I did. Now I’m over it.

In case you’re curious, I was spending too much time at Universal sifting through dailies from an old 1994 NBC show called “Earth 2.” I was looking for deleted scenes and outtakes for a possible feature on the much anticipated DVD release. I’m now a self appointed expert on the show. When you consider how many takes of each scene I’ve had to watch, I’ve seen every episode at least 5 times. And I’ve learned a few things, Antonio Sabato Jr. has a hard time acting, Clancy Brown seems like a cool guy, and Debrah Farentino can commit to even the most asinine dialogue.

But I did leave this latest job with an overwhelming urge to commit vehicular manslaughter. But I can’t tell if that’s because of the horrible traffic on the 101, the absurd storylines from the show, or if it’s just because I had to sit and stare at Rebecca Gayheart for a week.

I guess I’ll never know for sure.

Tanya did a fine job with the blog while I was away. But she had plenty to talk about. You know, when I’m running the stupid site nothing happens. Lindsay Lohan’s dad hit somebody or something. But Tanya got Terri Schiavo. Lucky.

I suppose the case isn’t over yet, though. I’m sure I’ll have something real interesting to say about it still. And plus, now I’ve got Michael Jackson and his recent statements to the “press” (Jesse Jackson).

Evidently, Michael’s the victim of a conspiracy. The evil people of the world are after his copyright holdings. Not to mention they’re taking him down because…and this is news…he’s black!

Excuse me?

Yes, Michael Jackson is black. When it’s convenient. Of course Michael Jackson’s black. No matter how hard he tried to cover it up, the world was never duped. No one really cared.

I should rephrase that. Some people did care. But most of them were African American. They were disenchanted with Michael because he seemed to be denying his heritage. Which I always thought was a crock anyway. I never thought that Michael was denying his roots. I just thought he was an image obsessed man-child. It had nothing to do with being black or white. He even wrote a song about it.

But now, it’s official. Michael’s back and blacker than ever. And he’s comparing himself to Nelson Mandela!

Nelson Mandela? I can’t be the only one in America who sees a few differences in the two men, right? Mandela fought for the rights of his oppressed people. Michael fought for what? The rights to the entire Beatles catalogue? The right to make the most expensive music video ever produced?

What I can’t believe is that people like the Reverend Jesse Jackson, a respected leader, just sit there and nod. Michael may not be a child molester but I know one thing…he’s no Nelson Mandela.

Man, it’s good to be back. My spleen in feeling better already.

Fun Fact: I am now officially a recovering road-rager. Yes, it’s true. Normally I’m a very mild-mannered person. I bitch a lot, but I rarely get all loud about it.

Unless I’m driving.

I don’t know what it is. I’m pretty sure that it has something to do with the complete fucking morons with whom I am forced to share the road. But there may be something else to it as well. The anonymity of being in a car? Something emboldens me to act like an ass on the freeway.

I should be more specific. I don’t drive like an asshole (most of time, Tosha and Jared would beg to differ, I evidently scarred them for life the last time they hopped in the old Echo). I try to be a very courteous driver. I don’t pass people in the turn lane, I don’t cut people off. I don’t cheat with the “exit only” lanes. I don’t double park. I just yell like hell at the jerk asses that do.

And I yell loud.

Sometimes I yell a little too loud. I almost had to throw down with a pump-stealer at the gas station and I ruined an innocent woman’s morning the other day on my way to Universal. Oh, sure, I only yelled “what the fuck are you doing you stupid bitch!” At the top of my black lungs. But what I neglected to realize was that both of our windows were rolled down.

Plus, when you’re driving, it’s also hard to remember that the person you’re yelling at is actually, most of the time, only about 10 feet away from you.

Needless to say, she heard me. Now it wasn’t her fault. She cut me off. But the real culprits in this case were the inept idiots who planned the turn lanes at Overland and the i10 freeway. They’re the real villains.

Well, them and me. Because I let my road rage make me yell at a poor woman who was stuck in just as much traffic as I was. And the look on her face was horrible. She didn’t know whether to yell or cry. She looked very hurt. And I felt like the worst human on the planet.

So now I’m working out my demons. I’m trying to get my road yelling under control. And if you’re a lady who drives a red car, has unfortunately large hair, and was called a “stupid bitch” on the Overland overpass last Wednesday morning…I’m sorry. I was the biggest jerk on the road that day. Horrible.

I’m well on my way to recovery. But if you’re reading this and you’re the type of person who thinks “I’m just going to cut this guy off ‘cause I’m in a hurry,” or “I wouldn’t normally pass in the turn lane, but the traffic is so bad today…” keep this in mind; just because I’m going to try to stop yelling, doesn’t mean that you can drive like a selfish asshole.

I may not yell at you, but the horrible names I’ll call you in my head would make Kevin Smith blush.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

And I don't care what you think about that, because the show was great.

TAM and I have decided that we would totally go see Bo Bice in concert, he is just some old-school awesome. The sad thing is, I would go see this top 12 in concert, because I enjoy listening to most of them and the ones I don't like are fun to make jokes about. Yes, sometimes I am mean. Get over it.

I have decided that Constantine is someone that you think is good looking when you first see them, but the more you look at them, you decide they are kind of average and/or weird looking. He was also very good last night and I just don't think I hear "I Think I Love You" on the radio enough any more.

Carrie Underwood's version of "ALONE" was just the best reason to watch last night. I would love a top four of Carrie, Bo, Nadia, and Constantine.

This whole voting mess-up is just sad, because everyone who did awesome last night now has a huge chance of messing up. And the people who were awful, probably aren't going to be any better.

So, what did you watch last night? I also watched "House, M.D.", which you should totally check out if you have never watched it.

It has Robert Sean Leonard in it.

A fun story about Robert Sean Leonard. TAM and I were wandering Costco one afternoon a few years ago and we ran into Robert Sean Leonard in the frozen food isle. Almost literally. Now, a little back story. People tell TAM he looks like Ethan Hawke a lot. Apparently enought that Robert Sean Leonard thought so too, because he did a total double take at TAM. This is my theory anyway. I guess he could have just thought he was cute, but that isn't such a fun story. The way it plays out in my head is that he calls Ethan when he leaves Costco and tells him all about how he just saw his doppelganger.

Oh never mind, it's not such a fun story. Neither is how we couldn't remember Robert Sean Leonard's name, so we spent the whole time trying to think of it. I was positive that he was Sean Patrick Thomas. He is not, but "Save the Last Dance" would have been very different if he was.

Fun FactNikko Smith from American Idol is the son of Hall of Fame baseball player Ozzie Smith of the St. Louis Cardinals. Ozzie Smith is in one of my favorite Simpsons episodes about the power plant's baseball team.Every time Nikko sings, I get the song from the end of that Simpsons episode stuck in my head.How random is that?"Well Mr. Burns had done itThe power plant had won itWith Roger Clemming Clucking all the whileMike Socher's tragic illness made a smileWith Wey Boggs lay unconcious on the bar-room tileWe're talking softballFrom Maine to SandiegoWe're talking softballMattingly and ConsecoKen Griffy's grotesquely swollen jawSteve Sax and his run-in with the lawWe're talking Homer, Ozzie and the StrawWe're talking softballFrom Maine to SandiegoWe're talking softballMattingly and ConsecoKen Griffy's grotesquely swollen jawSteve Sax and his run-in with the lawWe're talking Homer, Ozzie and the Straw"

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Sorry folks, I haven't been too good at the guest blogging thing, but that's what happens when you leave it to someone around their birthday. Plus my boss is out of town, which usually means that I have a lot of free time, but apparently not this go around. Actually, I am just trying to make it so that you miss TAM so much, you will jump for joy when he is back and blogging again.

Yeah, that's it.

So, what to write about. TAM's job is going really well, he may finish before his deadline.

Ummm....

Wow, this is hard.

Okay, we have been discussing the Terri Schiavo case a lot around our apartment. And by "discussing" I mean yelling at the tv. (Or in TAM's case, yelling at the radio) This story makes me so mad I just don't even know where to start. And as mad as I get, TAM is about 3 times more mad.Instead of letting this poor woman die and move on and try to heal, and, I don't know, DOING SOMETHING WONDERFUL IN HER MEMORY, her family decided that keeping her around in a vegetative state is just such a better idea. No healing allowed here.And could I hate our government any more? What happened to the Republican ideal of smaller government, and putting power in the local government's hands? Now not only do I have to worry about my reproductive rights as a woman, I have to worry that if I am in a vegetative state, TAM won't have to right to pull the plug as per my wishes. Because the government knows what's best people, we should just turn all of our very big decisions over to them and get it over with. (Except Social Security - they would really appreciate it if we could just screw that up for ourselves.)

Republicans won't let gay people get married because they are protecting the sanctity of marriage, yet they are totally taking away this man's rights to say that he knows what his wife wanted and her wishes should be followed.And what about her quality of life?ARGH! I just don't even know where to finish with this. I find the whole thing just wrong. And I love how people are calling liberals "killers" now. Because wanting someone to be in a better place is definitely murder. And liberal. But starting a war on false pretenses and sending thousands of people to their death - all in the name of money - that's not murder at all.

On a much happier note, the American version of "The Office" starts in a couple of days. I was totally angry when I first heard they were making a U.S. version of the show, since the original is total brilliance, but Steve Carell is one of the funniest people alive and I just can't wait.Also, "Lost" almost done with it's hiatus and I am so drooling over finding out who dies.

So, I guess that's all I have to say right now. I am a bit sluggish from the huge lunch with V and the awesome chocolate cake that K and L provided for me! (Hi Guys!)

You really miss TAM right now don't you.

Fun FactTAM knows how to change a tire with only a wrench. How butch is that? And he got to put that knowledge to use recently.Me? I say that's what I pay AAA the big bucks for, baby.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Okay, here's the deal. I've gotten a job. That's good. It's going to take up a lot of hours in the day and on the weekends and I have to drive to the valley. That's bad.

The job is only temporary. For a lazy jerk like me, that's good. But I'll be neglecting the blog for a little while. That's bad.

Tanya will be taking over for me every once in a while as a guest blogger. That's good. I've never taught Tanya how to draw the TAM Cartoon so there will be no new ones until the 28th. That's bad. (Don't forget to visit the TAM Cartoon archives!)

For the next 10 or so days, the blog posts will be of a much higher quality, I'm sure. That's good. But the new posts contain potassium benzoate. That's bad.

I just used an obscure reference from the Simpsons.

That's sad. Really.

So anyway, be good while I'm gone. Don't tear the place apart. Listen to Tanya. She's in charge while I'm away. If there's an emergency or something, contact the blogs linked to on the right. They can help you. I've told them that you're all alone this week, so they know what to do. They have the phone numbers and stuff.

Be good and remember to feed the dog.

TAM

Fun Fact: This is yet another in a long string of jobs that have found me. Janitor, movie theatre concessionaire, housekeeper, janitor (again), Starbucks, Mervyns, Netflix. I've had many more jobs of course, but those are the really auspicious ones that have been handed to me. That's the nice thing about having great friends and nothing but free time. I'm never out of work for too long. This time I get to spend the next 10 days hanging out in a small room on the Universal lot.

It sounds a lot more interesting than it actually is. But hey, thats showbiz!

At least that's what I tell people.

TAF note - I am already off to a bad start as a guest blogger. Sorry this is up so late, but that's what I get for posting from work.

On the plus side, I have a fabulous new SHORT haircut that takes 5 minutes to get ready.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Due to the overwhelming personal acclaim garnered by my last painting (meaning that overwhelmingly I personally think it deserves acclaim), I have decided to tempt fate and once again put brush to canvas. That’s right, I’m painting again today.

Which, sadly, means that I’m going to be neglecting you today as well. Luckily, there’s nothing really going on in the world worth mentioning anyway. At least, as far as I know. My usual news was interrupted by the president.

Why does George Bush insist on invading my television? He’s got nothing new to say. He held a press conference this morning. Just the latest in a long string of them. His purpose, as far as I can tell, was to garner support for Social Security reform. But what exactly is his plan? According to everyone in Washington, it’s to privatize social security. According to the President…he hasn’t decided yet.

Sure, right.

He says that he’s keeping the options open. Okay. Then why hold the damned press conference? Just to tell us about the new Iraqi parliament? We have televisions, Mr. Bush. We know about the Iraqis.

But the president insists that he’s keeping the debate open. We know that already also. Again, why was this press conference do damned important? To tell us all that he’s still thinking about it? We know!Do something and then waste my time about it.

President Bush loves to hear himself talk about social security reform. So I guess we all have to be annoyed by it. Imagine if all television was like a President Bush press conference. All talk and no actual product. We would have shows starring networks suits like “Law and Order: Something about Crimes and Criminals Maybe?” and “The Bachelorette IV: What if We Cast Lesbians?”

I might actually watch that last one. I think it would be great to watch network bigwigs discuss the benefits of lesbian programming. Is there a down side?

Okay, but really, I have just one nagging question about the President’s (alleged) social security reform plan. So we are all supposed to get private accounts and invest our money in Wall Street stocks from a list of approved ones put out by the government, right? My question is, who in the government gets to decide which stocks are good enough for everyone in the freaking country to invest in? And, please government lobbyists, when you finally get a senator in your back pocket on this one and get your stock put on the list, could you please let me know, I would like to invest before everyone else does. Your crappy company would make me a millionaire if I could get in before the government turns it into a blue chip!

Look at that. What do you know? I said I was going to neglect you and then I went ahead and wrote something. Sure, I didn’t neglect you on the quantity, but I gave you a big “screw yourself” with the quality.

Sorry. I need to paint.

Fun Fact: Tanya had her hair cut off last night. Oh, don’t worry; she had it done on purpose. I say that in case you got a little panicked that perhaps she was the victim of some deranged stalking barber. It looks good. That’s a fact.

And the average rainfall in Death Valley is only 1.96 inches a year, making it the driest place in North America. This blog is number 2.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

But Little Bill isn’t why I’m here today. No, today is all about me. Isn’t it always? Not that there isn’t any really interesting pop news today.

Condoleeza is being perpetually harassed about whether or not she’s going to make a bid for the White House. I wonder if Punch and Judy got this much pressure?

Former Baywatch “star” Alexandra Paul was arrested for trying to stop General Motors from murdering its entire inventory of leased electric vehicles. GM won’t even sell the cars to the protesters that have gathered outside the killing fields in order to put the kibosh on their evil plans. A plan that seems a little like a vendetta on GMs part if you ask me. “An EV1 killed my pa!” Anyway, now she’s a criminal. I would take the title “electric vehicle advocate” over “former Baywatch star” any day.

A Judge here in California ruled that the state’s ban on gay marriages is unconstitutional. Now he’s being accused of overstepping his bounds. I agree. Interpreting the constitution is best left to the churches. After all, when has any country ever gone wrong by letting the church dictate the law? Damned judges and their “opinions!” And damn the constitution for ensuring equal right for everyone! Jesus didn’t have gays in mind when he drafted the constitution. Civil unions are enough. Separate but equal. Where’s Jim Crow when you need him?!

And Mario Vasquez is no longer on American Idol. He’s out. In more ways than one if you believe the rumors. I don’t understand his decision to drop out of the show. But who really gives a ripe rat’s ass? Not I. Now old Mario’s gotten himself elevated to “frontrunner” status. Now there will be whispers of “if only…” But the fact still remains that he was a really annoying singer with even more annoying headwear…that no straight man would be caught dead in. Unless he was a pimp. Which I’m pretty sure Mario is not. Who knows?

Okay, I’m not going to discuss any of those things. Like I said, I’m here for me. Always for me. I’m here to unveil my latest painting to the world. A painting which has a lot of meaning behind it. A great story, really:

Tanya wanted a new picture for the bathroom. We used to have an Anne Geddes picture hanging in there. A baby was escaping a bathtub! Who wouldn’t want that in their bathroom? A baby!…Crawling out of a bathtub!!

Yeah, me neither. But there was nothing else to put there. We went to IKEA. They have some nice things there at IKEA in the way of prints. But perhaps the best thing they have there is very inexpensive frames. So I decided that I would paint a tiny triptych and we could put it in one of IKEA’s cheap but functional frames.

Which I did.

Okay, that story wasn’t very interesting. Here’s a picture of the painting.

I call it “Off, Off, On.” Oh so clever. You’re welcome. Please feel free to drop by and see it for yourself during posted viewing hours.

But, if I were you, I’d avoid coming in the morning.

Fun Fact: I was inspired to paint light switches because the wall on which the painting hangs has no real light switches. But, in the four years that I’ve lived in this apartment, it has never stopped me from trying to find one there.

I’m a little slow.

Bonus: If you look closely at the photograph of the painting, you’ll see that I didn't adjust for the reflective surface. And I’m wearing a 7UP shirt today!

Monday, March 14, 2005

It’s true. So true in fact that it should be a “Fun Fact.” Also, so completely obvious to anyone other than theoretical physicists that I should have just not mentioned it at all. But if it’s good enough for Steve Miller, it’s good enough for me. You can call me a space cowboy. Or Maurice. Whatever floats your boat.

As you can probably already see, I’ve got stuff to do today and really nothing interesting to say. Not that I didn’t have a full weekend. Went to a bar. Went to IKEA. And went to three different stores to buy enough liquor to start my own 1920s era crime family.

But you don’t want to hear about that. I’m sure that you would much rather hear me make inane references to Steve Miller.

Steve Miller’s father was friends with jazz legends Les Paul and Charles Mingus. Which begs the question, “what the hell was ol’ Steve thinking when he wrote Abracadabra?!”

Goodbye Porkpie Hat.

Hey, there, I threw in an inane reference to Charles Mingus just for good measure. You can stop reading this now. You should have stopped 4 paragraphs ago.

Fun Fact: I also bought a martini shaker and martini glasses this weekend. With glasses, a shaker and lots of alcohol, what else was there to do but try my hand at making martinis?

I started out with an appletini for Tanya. I didn’t do too bad. A bit too much vermouth. I made myself a cosmopolitan. Because I’m all man. And it was fantastic.

These martinis were tiny. We purposefully bought small martini glasses because, for me, the fun of martinis is not drinking them, it’s making them.

But, and here’s the fun fact, I could mix a martini in a thimble and Tanya would still get drunk off the first one. But that didn’t stop me from mixing a couple really awful lemon drops.

And for the first time in a while, I wasn’t bothered by the next door neighbor's craptastic midnight band practice.

Friday, March 11, 2005

I went to the Damah Film Festival in Beverly Hills last night. It’s a festival of short films geared towards the spiritual.

Of course, a perfect fit for me. Spiritual and short. That’s me to a tee.

And what’s better, there was an opening night meet and greet afterwards. You know how much I like to meet and greet. Kevin invited me to go with him. Tanya didn’t want to.

I always feel like such a downer idiot at these things. Even more so when I’m next to Kevin. He’s a freaking pro at events like these. He’s got Business cards!

Business cards!!

Sure, I know, everyone in the world has business cards but me. But if you have business cards, you had better be prepared to give them out. That’s what they’re for. But in order to do that, you have to talk to people. I really don’t like schmoozing. It seems somehow desperate.

I am desperate. Maybe that’s the problem. I already feel desperate. It’s advertising it that I can’t stand?

I’m nobody in the Hollywood wannabe scene.

But the films were good. Which is pretty remarkable for a short film festival. I actually worked on one of the shorts. I was a grip. The best damned grip/electric anyone’s ever seen. But you wouldn’t know it from my mingling abilities. I knew I was doing a horrible job of mixing when a lady came up to me and introduced herself with “Hi, I’m (whatever her name was)! You look like you don’t know anyone here (sad frowny face). I’m going around and talking the poor lonely losers who have no friends and no one wants to talk to.”

Okay, she didn’t say that last part. But she was all prepared to be my conversation consolation.

I don’t need no charity, lady whatsyourname.

I politely told her that I did, in fact, know a few people at the party. And then turned my gaze elsewhere until she just walked away. She was nice enough. But I really hate those functions.

There were only a couple redeeming things about the after-event. 1) There was a patio with ashtrays. And 2) “Buster Bluth” was there. Tony Hale.

In one of my phone calls with Tanya while I was there, I mentioned that she missed out on meeting one of the cast members from her favorite TV show. She wanted me to go up and talk to him. But I wasn’t about to do that. I wasn’t even talking to the people that I knew. People who weren’t famous. I wasn’t going to go and bug Tony Hale about why his hand wasn’t really missing.

Instead, I watched some other guys do it. They interrupted a conversation he was in to tell him about how much they liked his show and about what huge idiots the people at FOX are for neglecting it…

And then Tony stood up and proceeded to talk with them for the next 45 minutes about everything before giving them his business card.

Tanya also missed out on meeting Tori Spelling. If there is such a thing as missing out on meeting Tori Spelling.

All in all, it was a productive little screening soirée. I got to see some good films and repeat to myself “I could do that” over and over again, have a beer, smoke a couple cigarettes, watch people talk to other people, smell Indian food, and solidify Kevin’s resolve to never invite me to one of these things ever again.

Although, I was trying to make him look good for this cute girl that he would do well to call sometime. He has her business card after all.

Fun Fact: No one smokes in L.A. anymore. The people I meet while smoking at parties are usually my saving grace. No more. That’s a fact. Sure, everyone’s a bit healthier. But what ever happened to my disenfranchised friends?

Oh my, where have the cool kids gone?

I mean, besides here to see the latest TAM Cartoon. Black-lungalicious!

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Thanks for your support of the TAM Cartoon. I guess I’ll stick with it for a little while longer. At least until my life gets interesting enough that I have to give it up.

This blog post on the other hand, is another story.

I give up on it right now.

…okay, maybe I’ll post something.

However, as I just stated, my life isn’t very interesting. At the moment I’m working on a song for a charity. A cheesy, sappy song with an “indy-pop” flava’. It has to have an indy-pop flava’ because I’m the epitome of an indy songwriter. The percussion on the track involves an old, empty cranberry juice jug. So if anyone asks what my indy-pop flava’ is -- it’s cranberry.

I’m not going to mention which charity right now because the charity has no idea that I’m doing it. It’s noncommissioned. But don’t think that I’m crazy and naïve or anything; there is actually a great chance that it’ll get into the right hands. We’ll see.

Other than that, my life is hopelessly dull.

Why don’t I talk about something that’s so completely not dull. Ducks.

A male duck is called a drake. A female duck is called a duck or hen. Baby ducks are called ducklings regardless of their sex. In fact, baby animals of practically every animal species have a cute little name…except humans. We’re just “babies.”

We’re the most egocentric animal on earth and we can’t think of a cute name to call babies?!

I propose humlings or peeplings or veal.

But back to ducks:

Ducks have webbed feet which they use to paddle through the water. But their feet make them waddle on dry land. Scuba divers also waddle when they’re on dry land, but that’s because they’re all alcoholics.

Duck’s feet also have no nerves or blood vessels which means that they never get cold and have no feeling. This also sometimes happens to my own feet. But that’s usually because I’ve been sitting on the toilet too long.

Most ducks quack but one species of duck, called the Wood Duck, squeals instead. Ned Beatty squealed in a movie once but hopefully for different reasons.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Why so much festivity? Because I’m celebrating a momentous anniversary here at The Anthropomorphic Male.

No, not the introduction of the new home DNA testing kit. Although now hypochondriacs everywhere will feel a bit more legitimized.

I’m talking about the 100th TAM Cartoon!

Isn’t that exciting?! I thought so. But now I’m stuck with a bit of a dilemma. The original plan for the TAM Cartoon was to stop after 100 strips. But I don’t know if I can do that now. Not that I’m in love with it or anything, it’s just that dropping it now would feel a little like quitting.

Although I don’t have too many qualms with quitting either. I’ve quit much better things than the TAM Cartoon. Albeit, most of the “great things” that I’ve quit have usually been before I really started them in the first place.

Maybe I’m anthropomorphizing too much? But I’d feel a little bad for the poor cartoon if I just dropped it like that. Where’s the loyalty, you know? So maybe I’ll just keep plugging away at it for a while. Maybe it’ll get really good someday, you never know. Stranger things have happened.

Anyway, enjoy the 100th TAM Cartoon, I built a celebration theme onto the strip for added effect. Sure, it may seem a little…forced, but hey, it’s my cartoon and I’ll force it if I want to! Why should this one be any different?

Why don’t you visit the TAM archives and relive the last 99 strips? Get the whole “arc” of the cartoon and all. It couldn’t kill you. Relive all your favorite moments; naked friday, the S.U.C.K.S, a never ending litany of maternity shirts, Lazies Anonymous, Mr. Gnomerton dressed as a pirate, Complicated Solutions to Simple Problems, the spirit of Ernie Fosselius, umm…TAM in tights…uh…Mr. G’s first trip to see Santa…umm…okay, I’m grasping at straws here. But you get the idea.

Everything’s better when bathed in nostalgia.

I hope.

Fun Fact: After a little research (digging through the TAM archives) I’ve learned that the opening “supersized” edition of the TAM Cartoon first appeared on February 28th 2004. The actual series itself started on March 2nd. That means that it’s been around for a little over a year.

It also means that it’s taken me an excruciatingly long time to draw 100 cartoon strips. I can now understand why Bill Watterson gave up after 10 years.

And in case you haven’t gotten enough fun facts about the TAM Cartoon, here is one more:

Monday, March 07, 2005

The U.S. Insurance Institute for Highway Safety has determined that small cars are hopelessly under-protected if a Hummer slams into them at 30mph. The drivers of the small cars could be killed instantly.

Obviously, the problem here is the cars. Not the SUVs. SUVs are holy, blameless creatures. Especially Hummers. Hummers are too completely practical to be considered a nuisance.

And thank god they made Humvees cheaper!

But not just SUVs. After all, the institute’s side crash tests didn’t just focus on SUV impact. Mini-vans and those gargantuan v10 pickups were also considered.

The study concluded that the general car-driving population isn’t safe because their side panels are just not up to snuff. That’s not acceptable. SUVs are a fact of life now. It’s time that the “car people” came to grips. I have a suggestion for all the car driving people of the US.

Buy an SUV, pussies!

You’ve been warned. Not indulging in the all-American notion of selfish excess may result in grisly death. And while you’re out buying that new SUV, why not take the opportunity to add some 30inch woofers, stereo surround sound, a playstation and a DVD player for the tikes. You know, kids can’t be expected to just do nothing during the 15 minutes it takes to get from school to karate class. And don’t worry about the distraction, you’re safe…you’re driving an SUV!

All hail the SUV! They’ve rendered automobile safety obsolete. That’s something to be proud of. And thank you to the U.S. Insurance Institute for Highway Safety for conducting a study that, in the interest of personal safety, will spur more people to buy the very type of car that’s causing the problem in the first place.

Wait, I just thought about something really scary. What will protect the SUV against the semi truck?

And why are semi trucks called semi trucks? Do they make some bigger?!

I can’t think about this right now. My head is spinning. I have to put together a complaint against Old Navy. After conducting several independent tests, it turns out that my polar fleece half-zip pullover won’t actually stop a bullet! I could be killed!

Guns don’t kill people, weak-sauce half-zip pullovers do!

Fun Fact: Anthropomorphic car engines that eerily crawl from their engine block, scoot across the driveway and vomit up oil onto people legs with disgustingly accurate sound effects make me little ill.

Friday, March 04, 2005

A delightful spin on an enduring classic. But really, what’s the fascination with Martha Stewart being released from prison? They had polls all over the place this morning, “Do you think Martha was unjustly treated,” “do you think that Martha learned her lesson in prison,” “while incarcerated, do you think that Martha learned what it truly means to be a bitch…?”

They even talked about Martha’s influence at Camp Cupcake. She got the prison staff to put yogurt in the vending machines. Yogurt!! Wow. She has those crooked corrections jerks in the palm of her hand. John Gotti eat your heart out.

Now she’s heading home to her 60 million dollar estate and getting a bunch of crap for it. Both Jay Leno and David Letterman were teasing her on their shows (them and everyone else in the free world…behind the iron curtain, teasing Martha is the quickest way to have the Gestapo prune the old family tree if you know what I’m saying). “Oh, it must be tough being locked up in your million dollar mansion for a couple months…” “Don’t we feel sorry for you Martha for having to dwell in such squalor…”

Last time I checked, Jay and Dave weren’t living in studio apartments.

Okay, I don’t really care. I’m just looking for something to write about. But I’m happy that she’s out. I hope they bring her show back to LA television. It was really starting to get good again right before she was convicted. But really, is her life so interesting that we all need to care? Only an idiot would waste their time following Martha Stewart’s every move. In fact, only an idiot would waste time writing about Martha Stewart. Precious time that could be used to watch her TV show or read her magazines or buy some nice yet inexpensive towels or sneak a glimpse through partially drawn, impeccably hung window treatments as she slips into the shower...

Martha Stewart.

I’ll bet that man who was mauled by that chimp doesn’t care so much about Martha Stewart at the moment. You like that? I’ve found an ingenious way to tie together two current events.

For those of you who don’t know, this old beatnik couple used to have a chimpanzee. For years they had this diapered freak in their house. They let it sleep in their bed. They treated it like a child. They were very proud of their baby.

Personally, I don’t see the appeal. Seems to me that having a chimp around would be like having an incontinent, severely autistic child with hypertrichosis.

But see, the chimp used to like to escape and run amok. Finally Bonzo got a little persnickety with a cop car and bit a police officer on the finger. Was it bedtime for Bonzo? No. For two reasons. One, the authorities just sent him to live in a chimp prison somewhere. And two, his name isn’t Bonzo, it’s Moe.

Turns out that the chimp prison was no camp cupcake and it was too far for the couple to visit as regularly as they liked. So they petitioned to get Moe moved to a closer jail. Moe was moved closer…and that’s when things took a tragic turn.

The beatniks were bringing Moe a cupcake for his birthday when a few other chimps escaped from their cages and mauled the hell out of them. The man, St. James Davis and his wife LaDonna (good beatnik names) are now in the hospital. He lost a great deal of his face and she was bit a few times. Gory.

But there are lessons that can be learned from this incident. Don’t take tiny cakes to chimp prisons and “those who live by the chimp…”

Fun Fact: The latest TAM Cartoon is up! I’m kind of proud of it because I used a different perspective than normal. I’m also proud of it because I finished it.

That may not seem like a big deal, but here’s the thing. I’m an expert at finding stupid crap to do instead of getting done what I’m supposed to…even when the thing I’m supposed to get done is also stupid crap. Yesterday I sank to a new low.

I was about to start on the cartoon when I noticed that my guitar picks were hideously filthy. They needed to be cleaned. I’m sure that there’s nothing more embarrassing than catching the Ebola virus from your own guitar pick and my guitar picks invariably end up in my mouth while I’m playing. It’s easier than putting them down. Besides, as any guitar player will tell you, the second you set a guitar pick down it disappears. Like magic. Someday, I’m going to move and find a thousand guitar picks behind my dresser.

Which would be incredible since I never play my guitar near my dresser.

So yesterday, I spent 15 minutes cleaning cheap nylon guitar picks with a toothbrush and soap.

I would be more ashamed of myself if my picks weren’t so damned pristine.

Another fun fact for today: If Halle Berry herself came to my apartment, stripped naked and fed me meatball subs for a week, she still couldn’t get me to sit through “Their Eyes Were Watching God.”

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

That’s what Bette Midler said once. And you know my obsession with cabaret singing fag hags, whatever Mme Bette says must be taken straight to heart.

I have friends. Know how I know? Because while I was gone nobody came to this blog. I mean nobody. It was a virtual ghost town. The only thing to see was a couple random tumbleweeds, an old saloon and a stale TAM Cartoon propped up against a rusty watering trough.

Since I’ve been back, the readership has returned to normal. Know how I know? Because I’m tracking your every online move, that’s how. And I have to say, some of you should be ashamed of yourselves.

No, I shouldn’t do that. I don’t want to make anyone paranoid. I’m not tracking your every online move. That would be wrong. Besides, I don’t know how to do that anyway. I’ve just recently learned how to put things in italics, my computer skills are meager at best.

But I do see that more people are visiting this week than last. I just wanted to say thanks for being there. You’re good people. I know that I’ve called you names in the past. Lazy, jerk, I called one of you an idiot once and have never been able to live it down, etc… but that’s all water under the bridge, right?

Right?

So thanks for your readership, lazy jerks, you’re my kind of idiots.

Fun Fact Mel Gibson is crazy.

And for all of you waiting with baited breath…unbait it because the spanking new TAM Cartoon is up! Newlightful!

Also, a triple play of fun facts today, Tanya took this picture at San Simeon. Those naked cherubs with the freakishly long arms are holding up part of the Hearst Castle. They’re being systematically removed for restoration. They’re all cracked and stuff (a long boring story about cement and rebar). Our tour guide told us about how they were going to take them all down and recast them.

But he didn’t even crack a smile when I pointed out the risks involved if they happen to be load-bearing cherubs.